


if you love me, don't let go

by worth_the_risk



Series: could still be what you want to. [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, In which Alicia understands her son and Bob deflects with humor, Rehab, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worth_the_risk/pseuds/worth_the_risk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m okay, Maman, really.” He didn’t totally mean that yet, but he could say it out loud now. Baby steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you love me, don't let go

“Alright, Jack; all of your discharge paperwork is in order. You’ve got your new script to take to your pharmacy?”

“Yes.” Jack shifted his weight from his right foot to his left foot, leaning closer to his mother.

“You’ve got my cell number?” Annette folded her arms and looked at him over her thick-rimmed glasses.

He smiled, small. “Yes.”

“Well, I wrote it down again and stuck it in here.” She placed her fingertips on a thin blue folder and slid it across the desk to him. “Our outpatient treatment schedule is in here. The twice-weekly group sessions are open to program graduates for free for a year, and at a steeply discounted rate for four years after that. You feel yourself slipping, you _call me_. Even before your maman – sorry, Alicia. And we’ll get you up here and get you back on track.”

He nodded and moved to pick up the folder. Annette patted his hand.

“I’m proud of you. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Thank you.” Jack’s eyes itched. He shoved the tears back down. Not yet.

“Just doing my job.” She smiled and turned to Alicia. “Mom, do you have any questions for me?”

While Alicia chatted with Annette about things she could do to help Jack readjust to being at home, he wandered over to the picture window that overlooked the lake behind the repurposed old house. Rain stippled the surface of the water like an invisible paintbrush and the wind from the squall line created tiny white-capped waves that broke weakly on the shore. The trees lining the far edge of the lake were blurred by the rain, a blend of green and brown and gray below the low-lying hills beyond them. The damp August weather was a quiet comfort. Sunshine would’ve felt rude today.

It’d been six weeks since he checked himself in here; he chose inpatient treatment because he was well aware that consistency was key in his self-maintenance. Also, outpatient would’ve involved too much awkward staring at his father after talking shit about him for forty minutes twice a week.

He jumped when Alicia bumped her shoulder against his arm. “Oh, Jack, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you.”

“I’m okay, Maman, really.” He didn’t totally mean that yet, but he could say it out loud now. Baby steps. He slid his thumb under the strap to his duffel and shifted it higher on his shoulder, hearing the first bottle of his new (limited) prescription rattle in the side pocket.

She wrapped her hand around his.

“There are a few reporters outside, down at the gates. We can take the back door and your father can drive the truck around if you want.”

He pulled his toque down further, tucking it over the tops of his ears. “No use hiding. Just don't let go of my hand?”

“Never have, never will.” She cupped his cheek with her free hand and rolled up on her toes to kiss his forehead. “Are you ready?”

“Not a bit. Let's go.” Jack opened the door for his mother and waited while she opened her umbrella before ducking underneath it with her to cross the cobblestone courtyard.

He could see his father’s silhouette in the driver’s seat, looking down towards the entrance to the grounds. Bob had parked the Acura in such a way that their quick walk from the building to the SUV was hidden from the small, damp group of oglers stationed at the gates. Jack pulled the passenger’s door open and took the umbrella from his mother while she climbed into the car, then opened the back door and slid into the seat before closing the umbrella and shaking it off. He set the umbrella on the floorboards and shrugged his duffel from his shoulder, shut the door, and put on his seatbelt.

“Hey, son.” Bob was looking at him in the rearview mirror, the same fear Jack was carrying across his shoulders weighing on his brow.

“Allô, Papa.”

He twisted in the driver’s seat and placed his hand on Jack’s knee, face as serious as could be. “How many points per reporter I mow down?” Jack couldn’t help but grin.

_X_

He kept his eyes closed while they headed up the driveway, focusing on the truck rocking back and forth and the crunch of the stones under the wheels. His mother had slid her arm between the seat and car body and cupped her hand around his calf; her fingers were flexing against his leg in reaction to the shifting balance of the vehicle. The click of the garage remote made his heart stutter.

He rocked forward as his dad braked and put the truck in park. Alicia squeezed his leg before letting go and shifting around in her seat. “We're home, honey.”

He blindly grabbed his duffel and took a deep breath before opening his eyes and getting out of the truck. He opened his mother’s door for her and immediately sought out her hand. “Sorry for being so needy.” He frowned.

“Jack Laurent, I am your mother.” She bumped her hip against his. “You need me as much as you need to and I'll gladly be here.”

“I can take your bag, son,” Bob said, reaching for the strap. Jack tightened his hold on it and turned his shoulder away.

“I've got it, thanks though, Papa.”

Eyes dimming, Bob turned and unlocked the door to the house.

Jack let Alicia pull him inside after his father and tried to ignore the feeling of intruding on someone else’s living space. He’d been here for a few hours after he was discharged from the hospital before he checked himself into the rehabilitation center and, before that, he'd only stayed at home incidentally for the two years prior. It smelled of wood polish and his mother’s candles. He frowned, remembering that you're not supposed to be able to smell what your home smells like.

“You painted the living room.” Previously cream-colored walls were now a rich mulberry color. All the frames that normally covered the wall to the left of the fireplace were leaning against the foot of the stone hearth. The thought floated through that she’d only repainted as an excuse to take down all the pictures of him and his teammates so he wouldn't have to see them when he got home.

“I did.” She looked down at the hardwood floor. “I needed something to do with my hands and I was tired of looking at white walls.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.” His newly minted distaste for anything vaguely sterile already felt like a lifelong commitment.

“Why don’t you go drop off your bag upstairs and I’ll get something on for dinner? Hungry for anything in particular?” She linked her arm through his and wandered with him to the bottom of the stairs. He could hear his father puttering around in the kitchen across the hall.

“I’m not all that hungry, but I’ll eat some of whatever you put in front of me.”

Alicia turned and looked up at him. Guilt flickered in Jack’s stomach while they took in each other’s faces. There were grey streaks in her bangs that’d never been there before, and her eyes – transparent blue, like looking in a mirror – looked as haunted as he’d felt for the last year. Her shoulders, normally thrown back and proud, were curled in on themselves like the weight of the world had rolled off of them and she had yet to stretch. She cupped her hand against his cheek; the cool metal of her wedding band on his skin and the subtle, rich smell of the perfume at her wrist brought him back out of his head.

“You go unpack and I’ll come get you when the food’s done.” She patted his shoulder and headed towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, Maman.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by "unsteady" by the x ambassadors


End file.
